


Frozen

by JantoJones



Series: Stand-alone Two (The 2nd 100) [21]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 12:33:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12771159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones
Summary: Illya fails to return from an assignment in the snow.





	Frozen

The day was cold and crisp, with the clouds overhead threatening a heavy snowfall. For one of the two figures on the otherwise empty cliff top the chill of winter no longer held any discomfort. It never would again.

Looking down at the face of his late friend, Napoleon could almost convince himself that there was breath coming from Illya’s mouth. The thought that his partner was actually gone was one which Napoleon wouldn’t allow into his mind. To do so would be admitting the end of everything.

……………………..

Illya Kuryakin had checked in after gathering intelligence on small Thrush outfit. He’d passed on what he’d discovered and confirmed that he was free and clear. Twelve hours later he still hadn’t returned to headquarters, and the signal from the homing device in his shoe was stationary. Several attempts were made to contact him, but none were successful. Napoleon had then asked Mr Waverly for permission to go looking for him. The Old Man had been reticent about letting him go but, since Solo didn’t have any urgent business to see to, he allowed it.

It had taken Napoleon a couple of hours to the location indicated by the homing device, and his heart almost stopped at the sight which greeted him.

Illya was lying on his back in the snow. Luckily there hadn’t been a fresh fall which could have covered him over. Napoleon ran to his supine friend and, dropping to his knees, he frantically checked for signs of life, but none were evident. Illya was dead.

With no thought for the cold, wet snow beneath him, Napoleon pulled Illya into his arms and held him tight. Nothing on Earth could have prevented his tears from flowing.

There had been other partners before Illya, but Napoleon always rejected them, claiming that he performed better on his own. Then the pale, skinny Soviet had arrived and, against all expectations, his way of working had perfectly complemented Napoleon’s. They were as different as chalk and cheese, but each had strengths which made up for the other’s weaknesses. Beyond their professional relationship, however, a rock solid friendship had also been formed; despite Mr Waverly’s initial consternation. 

As he continued stare at Illya’s face, Napoleon suddenly realised that he hadn’t imagined the breath coming from him. He was still alive.

“Illya?” Solo whispered, as he patted an ice-cold cheek. “Are you still with me?”

The Russian’s eyelids fluttered, and his lips moved silently, but he remained unconscious. That didn’t matter to Napoleon. The man was still living and he was determined to keep it that way. Pulling out his communicator, he ordered a helicopter rescue.

………….......

It was two days before Illya returned to the world, and the familiar sounds and smells of the U.N.C.L.E. medical suite. The doctors had managed to bring is body temperature to normal, and had reset a broken tibia.

“Welcome back, Tovarisch,” Napoleon greeted, putting aside the reports he was reading.

Waverly had only allowed the vigil on the understanding Napoleon would catch up on some of his CEA duties at the same time. This had resulted in half of his office being relocated to medical.

“How long?” Illya asked.

“Two days,” Solo told him. “Apparently, I found you just in time. Another hour and it would have been too late. What happened?”

Illya narrowed his eyes in thought, trying to retrieve the memory from his fuzzy brain.

“I slipped on something under the snow, a rock I think, and I felt my leg break as I went down. When I reached for my communicator, I did not have it. I must have lost it somehow. I tried to stand but the pain was too much for me.”

“The doc says the temperature slowed your body down, keeping you alive for longer. The heat from my body then helped to prevent things from slowing down too much. I just thank God I got to you in time.”

Illya frowned at the strange downcast tone he could hear in Napoleon’s voice.

“Is there something you are not telling me?” he asked.

“I almost gave up on you,” Solo confessed. “You looked and felt dead and, although I refused to accept it, I knew you had gone.”

“Thankfully, you were wrong,” Illya replied, with a smile. “And I’m also thankful that you weren’t late for once.”

That was enough to Napoleon snap from his despondency. A wide grin appeared on his face.

“I’m never when it matters,” he said, with faux consternation.

The friendly bickering was still going when a nurse entered the room a few minutes. She smiled at the scene, knowing that the patient was well on the way to a full recovery.


End file.
